Chapter 7 - THE ANATOMY OF CONTROL
Blake spun around on the mat, his face red with frustration, his chest heaving as he stared at the calm plumber.
"Stop running!" Blake roared, his voice cracking with embarrassment as he realized the parents had seen his best punch miss by a fraction of an inch. "Stand still and fight!"
Blake charged again. This time, he launched a rapid, three-strike combination—a left jab, a right hook, followed by a heavy left roundhouse kick aimed directly at Damon's neck.
Damon moved with terrifying, fluid efficiency.
He didn't block the jab; he ducked beneath its plane of travel by bending his knees two inches.
As the right hook came whipping around, Damon stepped into the strike's arc, placing his left forearm softly against Blake’s inner bicep. The collision choked off the power of the hook before it could develop any velocity, turning a knockout blow into a harmless nudge.
Then came the roundhouse kick.
As Blake’s shin whipped toward his neck, Damon didn't jump back. He executed a micro-slide with his rear foot, bringing his body within three inches of Blake's standing pivot leg.
He raised his right palm and placed it gently against the small of Blake’s lower back.
It wasn't a punch. It was a precise vector redirection.
By applying three pounds of pressure to Blake's hips while he was airborne on one leg, Damon completely disrupted the kickboxer's center of gravity.
Blake’s kicking leg swung uselessly through empty air, and his body was launched sideways. He crashed heavily onto his stomach on the blue mat, skidding four feet into the base of the heavy punching bag rack.
The gym erupted into a collective gasp.
Parents stood up from their chairs. Kids stared with wide eyes.
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Blake lay on the mat, his elbows propping himself up, gasping for air as his face burned with absolute humiliation. He looked up at Damon, who still stood in the center of the mat, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his face completely unbothered.
"You're relying on speed," Damon said softly, his voice echoing in the silent room. "Speed fails when your footwork is sloppy. Get up."
